


Mania

by JaMills



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Author's bad coping mechanisms over the lack of YuriYuu stuff, Because it's dark, Blood, Dark Yuri, Did I say Dark Yuri?, Innapropriate use of canon lines, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Not a single bit, Pining, Slight Character Study, The Author Regrets Nothing, Too much use of fire metaphors, Unrequited Love, people die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 01:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaMills/pseuds/JaMills
Summary: Mania is a Greek word for obsession. Addiction. Madness. A furious passion. It's a type of love, just like Agape and Eros.Yuri can explain this one pretty easily.





	Mania

**Author's Note:**

> Again I translate stuff instead of writing new content. Oneshot originaly posted in Brazilian Portuguese in another site, I decided to bring this here because apparently there's not enough Dark Yuri. I'm disappointed.  
> Enjoy!!

Yuri doesn’t know when or why the flame started.

  
  
It’s a flame, because something lit it, it consumes air to exist and it’ll probably go out one day.

  
  
He doesn’t know what started it. The oxygen, however, was every little gesture from Yuuri that made him more infatuated. If that had an end, it’d surely leave a trail of ashes in the way.

  
  
It was very easy to fall in love with Yuuri Katsuki. His easy smiles, his modesty, his kindness, his beauty. All this made the fire of passion that burned Yuri inside. And burns hurt a lot.

  
  
He could point out a few occasions when he definitely wasn’t in love. The day they met is one of them. Why would he be attracted to a pathetic person who cried in public toilets? Didn’t he know how many skaters would kill to be in his place, but hadn’t the chance? And he was crying? What a spoiled guy. Yuri despised spoiled people.

  
  
He also wasn’t in love when he had to hunt Victor down in another country to claim his short program. But he admits there was... something in Hasetsu. Maybe it was Yuuri's courage to ask for help with the quad salchow, because his stupid coach was apparently not enough. Or maybe that moment at the waterfall where Yuri decided he could think of his grandfather to find Agape. It wasn’t passion, but something had prepared the wood inside him, thinking it might be useful for a fire afterwards.

  
  
It still wasn’t passion when Yuri offered katsudon pirozhki to Yuuri, but it was near. Now the inner entity had come up with the idea of bringing matches. No reason at all, just for the sake of having. Maybe one day he'll have the aim to do something else.

  
  
The wood was kicked over when Yuuri and Victor announced their engagement. Why invest in something that wouldn’t be reciprocal? This has always been his problem with Agape: unconditional love without expecting anything in return. Everything has a price for Yuri. And if he gives something, it's because he wants something.  
  
  
Yuri felt anger and hatred. He hated Yuuri and hated Victor. And hate is cold as ice. He knew ice very well.

  
  
When he found out about Yuuri retiring, he felt nothing.

  
  
It was empty. The emptiness is also cold, but not like the ice on which he skated. It was cold as the wind that enters an old house at night, which scares children by knocking against the window.

   
  
Emptiness was fear.

  
  
Yuri was afraid of abandonment. He didn’t want to be left behind. The only chance he could get any closer to Yuuri was through skating. If he left, what he would have? Yuri liked the heat, liked having something stronger than the coldness of negative feelings.

  
  
The wood was recovered in a haste as he slid through the Barcelona rink. Every piece found was a jump he completed perfectly.

  
  
He fell and for a second the tinder pile shook, but he kept on. He had to win. He had to show Yuuri that he couldn’t leave now, not when he had just arrived. Yuuri had to stay there with him.

  
  
They were a match, they had the same name. Eros and Agape were parts of the same story, of the same song. Yuuri was the fire, Yuri was the ice. One is the seduction, the other the innocence. One was the sun, the other the moon. He could continue it forever and still wouldn’t be enough to say how much Yuuri was important.

 

  
It was with shaking hands that the match ignited the bonfire, at the same time that Yuri discovered that Yuuri wouldn't finish his career right now. No, he would continue and train in Russia, near him.

  
It was more than he could ask for.

  
He liked the warm feeling in his chest, and it was probably there that he fell in love. But Yuri didn’t notice that. He just liked the idea of having Yuuri around.

  
  
There was still ice inside, but a flame was burning, determined to melt that endless winter in Yuri's heart.

  
  
He was very excited for the rest of the season.

 

 

  
  
  
  
At first, he believed he had a chance.

  
  
I mean, if someone smiles at you, asks how you are, helps you with training, takes care of you... it has to mean _something_ , right?

  
  
It was so with Yuuri. The oldest was the sweetest presence on the rink. Always making sure of the Russian's well-being, debunking the programs or just being there for him.

  
  
He fired the flame without knowing it.

  
  
And Yuri truly believed that in every touch of his shoulder, every caress on his hair, every hug; there was a sign that Yuuri wanted him too, that he wasn’t alone in his unrequited teenage crush. The heat could one day reach the honor of being recognized.

 

  
But a light bothered Yuri's eyes. It was small, almost insignificant, but it hurt.

  
  
The reflection of Yuuri's wedding ring.

  
  
And with it, there was Victor.

  
Victor was the memory of the harsh reality in which Yuuri was married and loved by another person. Of course you could love two at the same time, but Yuuri wasn’t like that. He was loyal and it only made him more adorable.

  
  
Then his hatred went to Victor. Earlier he could say the living legend was bearable. He helped with his training, made a routine that helped him get to the Grand Prix Final and put Yuuri in his life. He had a lot to thank Nikiforov.

  
  
But Victor was a rival. Always ahead of him, whether in competitions or in his love life. Honestly, didn’t he have everything he wanted already? He could have anyone at his feet, why Yuuri? Is it too much to ask for Yuri to have something easily, without having to fight with God and the world to achieve it?

  
  
The way Yuuri smiled at Victor was already an answer.

  
  
As in everything in his life, he’d have to fight to have Yuuri by his side. He craved that warmth and was willing to do anything for it.

 

 

 

  
  
  
For years, Yuri wondered if he really loved Katsuki. Because of his experience in skating Agape, he knew there were many forms for love. One of them had to explain what Yuuri meant to him.

  
  
His first idea was Agape. Unconditional love, no passions or expectations. Far from reality.

  
  
Yuri had high expectations. If it were Agape, he wouldn’t mind being a second thought in Yuuri's life. No, he wanted more. He wanted to be the reason for the older man's smiles, wanted his eyes to shine for him and him only. He was too selfish for Agape.

  
  
The next choice was Storge and it took him a long time to discard it. Platonic love between family. Maybe he just saw Yuuri as an older brother, a father? It happens when you're lacking proper parental affection. Maybe he was just confusing things, after all. But no, he realized. What he longed was more than the warmth of a home.

Yuuri could see him as Storge, but the view wasn’t reciprocal. He needed something stronger.

  
  
This force he found in Eros.

  
  
Sexual passion and desire, romantic love. It was something very close. Yuuri brought things he had never felt before. His voice followed his dreams from mornings on the rink till the lonely nights in his room, where he pathetically tried to ease the physical desires by thinking of Yuuri whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He’d give the world and something else to have the elder there by his side, not as a mere poster on the wall.

  
  
Yes, Eros was something that could describe what he felt. But Eros was ephemeral, a flame that went out after burning wonderfully. The love he felt for Yuuri was far from over. It was infinite, it’d only end when Yuri was dead six feet under. There had to be a more accurate feel.

  
  
It’s then that he found the definition of Mania. A love that leads to madness and obsession. For those who feel, it’s a way to save themselves. Someone who wants to love and be loved, no matter what. It’s possessive and destructive. It seemed the right choice. Yuuri was Yuri's reason for living. The Russian would devote the rest of his days to having him by his side and making him happy. A life without Yuuri was just surviving. Every second away from him was torture. And the thought of him with another was hell itself.

  
  
  
Many articles spoke of the dangers of Mania, with chances of a loved one being hurt by violent acts of jealousy. Yuri thought it was bullshit, he’d never hurt Katsuki. He was the object for his devotion, why would he do anything like that? He’d rip off his own arm before hurting him.

  
  
The research, then, had its payoff. Yuri now knew the kind of love he felt. It’s Mania, and it seemed much easier to explain than Agape and Eros. If Eros was a fading flame, Mania was the light that burned forever and would only be satiated if Yuuri accepted his love.

  
  
Because he would accept it. One way or another.

 

 

 

  
  
  
Yuri waited seven years before trying anything.

  
  
Seven years is a long time taking care of burns.

  
  
From 15 to 22, he waited in silence for the moment Yuuri would show something bigger than platonic affection. He hid sighs every time their hands touched, feigned indifference when Yuuri combed his hair, came to the exaggeration of _complaining_ of hugs so as to not hurt himself further. Those were the seven longest years of his life and resulted in nothing. Yuuri still saw him as a child.

 

  
Puberty was generous to him. He’s now taller than Victor, his body and features had lost all the feminine traits of childhood and his hair was longer as well. Just another excuse to make Yuuri braid it before each presentation.

  
  
Even with the appearance of a grown man, Yuuri didn’t give a shit about him. Yuri even tried to be more suggestive. A less innocent look, a compliment, a different touch during ballet. Nothing. Yuuri was too dense. No wonder Victor suffered for weeks until he got some response.

  
  
Or maybe he was just being difficult. Yuri wouldn’t be surprised by that. Yuuri wouldn’t let himself go so easily, he was married, after all. The blonde had to be straight to the point.

  
  
That’s why, on a night where only the two of them were on the rink listing possible songs for next season, Yuri trapped him in the locker room. Yuuri looked surprised to see the boy's arm against the cabinets, blocking his passage and leaving their faces just inches apart.

  
  
"Yuuri," He said earnestly, looking into those brown eyes that had haunted him since he was young. "do you like me?"

  
  
Katsuki blinked a few times and replied calmly:

  
  
“Sure, Yurio. What kind of question is that?”

  
  
Well, it wouldn’t sound stupid if he read between the lines. Yuri shook his head.

  
  
"No, I want to know if you like me more than as a friend.”

  
  
The dark haired man seemed tense at that. If he could press harder against the cabinets, he would.

  
"Yurio, you know you're more than a friend. I care about you, I've known you for years. To me you are...”

  
  
"Then why won’t you stay with me?" He interrupted with a mischievous smile, stepping closer and closer. “Why are you still with Victor if it’s clear I’m more than just a student?”

 

  
Before anything else could happen, Yuuri pushed him hard and stumbled away.

  
  
"Yuri, no!" He had a strong blush on his face and his eyes were wide. Cute. “I... I don’t like you like that! You're like a brother, maybe even a son. And I have Vitya! What’s wrong with you?”

  
  
Yuri's eyes were a mix of confusion and irritation. Well, what’s wrong with _him?_

  
  
“Is it because of my age? ” He asked honestly. Did he only have a chance if he was an old man in his thirties like Victor?

  
  
“Oh, my god, no! It’s not that! Where did you get the idea that I like you this way?” He looked so lost, and about to have a fit. His trembling fingers combed his hair back and he said softly again. "Yuri, I really like you. I can say that I love you, but it's a family love. My romantic love, my dear, my soulmate, whatever you want to call it; It's Victor. He's the one I married, Yuri. And I wouldn’t leave him for anything in the world.”

  
  
It was as if someone poured cold water on the fire and the smoke invaded the blond's mind. And the ashes make you choke and doesn’t let you see properly.

  
  
Yuuri didn’t want him as a lover. But he still loved him. It was like being at the gates of heaven, but without the key. A real agony.

  
  
"Oh." It was all he could say, lowering his gaze and letting the long golden locks hide the shame in his face. "Ok, forget it.”

  
  
“Yuri.” There was empathy in Yuuri's voice as he approached. “Yuri, I'm sorry if I...”

  
  
"Don’t apologize for something you aren’t at fault, Katsuki.” He said coldly as the ice in his chest. “I’m the only idiot here. Just forget what I said. Bye.”

  
  
He picked up his things and left the locker room without waiting for an answer.  
  
  
Even with Yuuri calling after him, he didn’t stop walking until he was in the parking lot in front of his car. He drives at a speed that would surely have Yuuri scolding if he was with him.

  
  
_Yuuri_.

  
  
Yuri grunted and punched the wheel, pushing the pedal more and more. He didn’t know for sure where he was going, maybe for a dimension where he wasn’t a fool, where Yuuri loved him and Victor didn’t exist.

  
  
_Victor._

  
  
No matter what he did, Victor is always on his way. He even seems to do it on purpose. No one can shine more than Victor Nikiforov. Anyone who tried was bound to turn into a shadow. Yuri could get as many medals as he wanted and break all the records of his coach, but the older would still be a legend. He wasn’t worried about skating now. There was only one thing he couldn’t win with quads and spins: Yuuri. And he hated himself for it.

  
  
_Yuri was tired of feeling never enough._

  
  
His car took him to a strange part of town, the type that made a playground for mobsters and prostitutes. The right thing would be for him to turn around and go home, probably avoiding being robbed or worse.

  
  
He was tired of doing the right things.

  
  
Stopping the car in a empty spot on the street, he got out on the cold, cloudless night of St. Petersburg, having only the Russian team's jacket to warm him. Some people on the street looked at him sideways, but otherwise they didn’t pay much attention. Yuri still didn’t care.

  
  
He entered the first place ahead of him that seemed to sell alcohol. He would abuse his low tolerance to forget the shame he felt today.

  
  
The bar stinks of vomit, urine, booze, and other things he only knew after a dubious party with university seniors. He felt guilty at the thought that his grandfather, whatever divine spectrum he might be now, would be disappointed to see him in that kind of place. Victor and Yuuri as well.

  
The last thought made him stay.

  
  
Sitting in the cleanest-looking seat, he ordered the strongest drink they had from the waiter. The man barely glanced as he slid the glass over the wooden surface in front of him.

  
  
The vodka streaming down his throat was burning. It was probably one of those illegal mixtures that crossed the border thanks to the mafia. But it did a good job distracting him.

  
  
Yuri wasn’t just angry, he was sad. What else could he do to have Yuuri? How much effort was needed, how many sleepless nights, how many shattered confessions? Damn, wasn’t he worthy of Katsuki's love?

  
  
Well, no one is, actually. Yuuri was an angel and mere mortals have to be thankful for simply stepping the same ground as him. Yuri had something priceless: his friendship. He should be pleased to see Yuuri every day and get crumbs of his attention. But he wanted more. He wanted to kiss Yuuri, sleep and wake up by his side, make him laugh, see him moaning his name in pleasure, take care of him... Everything a lover had.

  
  
Everything Victor had.

  
  
Yuri ordered another cup and drank grimly. The blond considered envy to be stupid, so he refused to say he was envious of Victor. He was only disturbed that Yuuri had chosen him, of all people. What Victor had that Yuri didn’t?

  
  
For starters, Yuri didn’t have such a pathetic emotional balance. Sometimes he wondered how their marriage worked out when Victor was so... unstable. Anything could break him, he’s the most sensitive of the pair, despite what many can think. Victor was weak, using Yuuri as a crutch for his life. Without Yuuri, Victor was nothing.

  
  
Yuuri, on the other hand, knew how to stand up and move on. He didn’t gravitate around Victor, only considered him important. In a tragic scenario, he could keep going on without the Russian, even if it hurt at first.

  
  
Yuri looked up at his moment of enlightenment.

  
  
Yuuri didn’t depend on Victor. If Victor disappeared, Yuuri wouldn’t be hurt forever, he’d heal. He could stop loving him and create new relationships.

  
  
He could fall in love with Yuri.

  
  
He could be his.

  
  
Yuri smiled like a child on Christmas morning. He finally got a solution to his problem. Dedushka would be really sad, but he’d understand when he saw in heaven how happy his grandson was.

  
  
To have Yuuri, his husband needed to leave the scene, and there was only one way to do that.

  
  
Killing Victor Nikiforov.

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
When he finally had the nerve to turn on his cell phone the next day, his mailbox was full of messages and missed calls from Yuuri.

  
  
He'd been worried, that was obvious. He said he was sorry for having disappointed him and that he hadn’t said anything to Victor. It was the best choice considering the strange mood that would be among them.

  
  
Even with the slight hangover, he appeared on the rink in the morning. Yuuri and Victor were already there and so did the other skaters they trained. Yuuri stared at him for a while and looked away. Victor had that neutral look on his face, but he was bad at concealing his anger for long.

  
  
His coach went to him in the same locker room as the discussion last night took place. He looked disappointed as he said:

  
  
"I think you're too old to bicker with your choreographer over a song."

  
  
Was that the excuse Yuuri had given? Victor must have noticed his husband's change of mood and asked what happened. A pretty stupid story in his opinion, but Yuri didn’t have much to discuss in that case. Dance with the music.

  
  
“I know.” He answered as he put his things away in the closet. "I'm going to apologize.”

  
  
"He was very worried when you left without saying anyting." Victor apparently hadn’t finished his scolding. "What were you thinking when you left by yourself at night? Worse, when you left Yuuri alone to close the rink?”

  
  
_You leave him alone with me every Tuesday and Thursday,_  he wanted to throw back, but it was one of those times when he had to shut up and be quiet. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

 

  
"I’m not doing it anymore, I swear.” He said calmly as he stared at the floor.

  
  
The two remained in that heavy silence for a while until Victor sighed and said:

  
  
"All right, let's forget about that, then. Start warming up and then check your transitions.”

  
  
He nodded and left the room, suffocated by having to spend another second in the same place as that man.

  
  
_Hypocrite_.

  
  
Victor Nikiforov was a hypocrite.

  
  
He talks about taking care of Yuuri when he won’t do it himself. And he called himself a good husband? Tsk. Yuri wanted to laugh, but he’d have plenty of time for it when his plan came to life. A world without Victor seemed very fun, to tell the truth.

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
It took Yuri little more than two months to organize a strategy. In that time he took care to schedule the event out of figure skating season, making it less drastic for the public.

 

  
 He thought sometimes of doing everything in secret, without Yuuri's knowledge. It seemed like a good plan. He makes Victor disappear and is the one to comfort the lonely widow. It’d be a beautiful scene. But Yuri couldn’t lie to Yuuri for long, he’d feel guilty. And he suspected he'd have a hard time hiding the biggest smiles every time he stepped onto the ice and didn’t hear Victor’s disgustingly cheerful _"Amazing!"_

 

  
Yeah, that might get unwanted attention. So he decided that Yuuri would be there with him. He liked to make a good show after all. His loved one might be sad at first, but they’d have a nice life later, away from the cameras and the gossiping looks of the world. The sight of them living in his grandfather’s isolated datcha seemed sweet enough.

  
  
During this time of preparation, he made a point of acting naturally and perhaps a little gentler. Yuuri seemed to forget that fateful night little by little every day and even Victor had smiled back at him. They were the same Podium Family the fans loved, even when he was the only one competing and secretly hating the group's name.

  
  
Ugh, as if Victor and Yuuri were his parents. In that case he had some gross kind of Oedipus Complex? He didn’t want to think too much about it. Even if his favored end for this story was to see his dear "father" dead.

  
  
He was just waiting for an opportunity to act. A moment when the three of them were alone and the couple was comfortable enough to not to suspect anything, then he’d come into action.

 

This moment came with great news. Victor came to the rink with the biggest grin he had on his inventory and Yuuri behind him wasn’t much different.

  
  
“We are officially on the waiting list for adoption!” The Russian said practically jumping in place. “We’re having a baby! Our first baby!”

  
  
  
Everyone who listened gave their congratulations and Yuri just managed to smile. Yuuri should be so happy, he always gave away clues that he wanted to be a parent.

  
  
Yuri liked the thought. He and Yuuri having a child together, maybe two. He always had a soft spot for children, though he’d ever admit it out loud. Yuuri would be a lovely father. Would he let Yuri choose the baby's name? Only the thought made him sigh and smile like an idiot.

  
  
He already had some ideas. Alexei for a boy, Yulia for a girl. Yuki for both, if Yuuri wanted a Japanese name.

  
  
The only thing that spoiled the image was Victor, as always. He’d have to get rid of him before any child joined the picture.

  
  
“Congrats.” He said quietly to Yuuri when the commotion was over. “You two are kind of gross, but I know you’ll be great parents.”

  
  
The older man looked surprised by what he said. Yuri saw a spark of hesitation in his eyes before he smiled softly and said:

  
  
“Thank you, Yura. This is a very important moment for us. And we’d be grateful if you were with us at every step.”

  
  
If there was any way to make Yuri more emotional, those words would be very useful. He couldn’t hide the blush from his cheeks when he realized that he was important to Yuuri, that even after his fiasco confession still had the right to be part of that.

  
  
Yuuri was too good to that world and maybe he shouldn’t go through with the plan. Katsuki would be devastated. But it’s for a good cause, right? And he’d be there to help in his recovery.

  
  
"Thank you, Katsudon.” He said in the end. “Are you going to celebrate with something special?”

  
  
"Actually, we just wanted a simple dinner. The three of us.” He sounded uncertain about the last part. “Don’t feel obligated, it's just...”

  
  
“No, it’s alright.” He fixed quickly. “I can cook this time. You’re always doing it all by yourself. And Victor can’t even boil water.”

  
  
The brunette laughed, touching his arm for a second. Great, now that piece of skin would be tingling for days.

  
  
“Okay, I think I'll take the offer. You must be tired of katsudon, anyway.”

  
  
Yuri just rolled his eyes. As if he could get tired of anything that came from Katsuki.

  
  
"I have some stuff to do tonight.” He said sounding rather guilty. “Can we have dinner another day?”

  
  
"Sure, is Friday better?"

  
  
He nodded and the conversation ended there, Yuri doing his best to hide the huge grin that wanted space on his face.

  
  
The best part of that? The three of them would be alone at a simple dinner. What’s different? Yuri would cook.

  
  
It was very helpful that he was a student of veterinary medicine.

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
The two days until dinner seemed like forever.

  
  
Even though he used a good part of this time to organize everything and still maintain a common appearance, he was anxious. Like the seconds before entering the ice for a competition, he was excited to see how well that would happen. And if it went wrong, if he could fix it later.

  
  
Before leaving home that day, he prayed. Yuri was never a religious person and he wasn’t asking a blessing for any omniscient being out there. He was apologizing to his Dedushka, because he certainly wouldn’t approve of what he would do today. But he knew his grandfather would protect him from wherever he was, even with his questionable conduct. That was Agape: unconditional love.

  
  
He locked the apartment feeling lighter and knowing he wouldn’t come back.

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
The hours dragged on forever until they were at the Katsuki-Nikiforov residence.

  
  
Yuri could no longer hide his smile of excitement and the couple noticed, amused by his fondness over a new family member. Oh, yes, he was certainly excited. But he was also interested in subtracting a character in that household.

  
  
To his surprise, they complied with their word of letting him cook it all by himself. He was already expecting to have to gently drive them out of the kitchen so he could work in peace, but they would only show up from time to time to get a glass of water or praise the scent of borscht. It could be a normal day if Yuri didn’t empty a bottle of ketamine into the orange juice.

  
  
It wasn’t difficult to get it, the university lab had no security at all. And he had good enough grades to know the right dose to knock out a human being. Yuri sighed contentedly as he carried the food into the dining room.

  
  
It was a meal like many others they had together. They talked about the season, about Yuri's classes in college, about their next vacation trip and stuff. The last topic caught the blonde by surprise.

  
  
"Yura, what do you think of being the baby's godfather?" Victor asked as he finally poured himself a glass of juice.

  
  
“What?” He asked, not believing his ears.

  
  
"We want you to be our son's godfather." Yuuri said taking the jug of juice as soon as Victor let go of it. “More than a godfather, I think you’d be a great onee-san.”

  
  
Yuri felt his cheeks heat up. A drop of regret touched him as he saw them already with drug filled glasses used to make people faint. And they wanted him to be their son's godfather. They thought of him while Yuri only thought of himself, wanting to have Yuuri just for himself.

  
  
But then he remembered every year he suffered with unrequited love. This was his only chance to get rid of Victor and give Yuuri the love he deserved.

  
  
Yuri smiled and poured juice into his own glass.

  
  
“Thank you. It's an honor to be part of this damn sweet family.”

  
  
They laughed and Victor raised his glass.

  
  
“A toast to the new member of the Nikiforov family!”

  
  
The three of them set their glasses down, but only Victor and Yuuri drank shortly afterwards. Yuri watched expectantly as they took long sips from the fruit mixture with anesthetic. Yuuri presented the effects faster, with Victor following him soon after. The Japanese still had time to look at Yuri confused before falling onto the dirty borscht plate in front of him. Victor did the same and dropped his cup.

  
  
_Always dramatic,_ Yuri thought in disgust.

  
  
He stood up and admired his work. He had maybe two hours before they woke up, so he needed to act fast.

  
  
Still, he wasted a few minutes just staring at Yuuri and touching his hair. He even had the guts to kiss his cheek. Anything beyond that went against his morals. After all, they would have plenty of time for caresses later.

  
  
Now to the ropes.  


 

 

 

  
  
  
  
Yuuri woke up to a headache, heavy eyelids, and the feeling he had swallowed a soup of pins.

  
  
He recalled bits of the night. Dinner, juice, then everything started to get cloudy. He had no control over his body. His memory managed to remember Yuri putting him in a car in the front seat, driving through unknown streets, pop rock playing on the radio...

  
  
His eyes went to his own body. He was tied to a chair. Ankles and wrists, a professional job. He looked around and saw himself in a dark, closed space. A shed, perhaps? He was about to scream for help when two figures entered his sight.

  
  
"Oh, Katsudon, you're up.” Yuri said with a smile as he pushed an equally tied up Victor in another chair.

  
  
It all seemed like a very bizarre dream. Yuri had done all that? But why?!

  
  
“Yuri, what are you doing?!” He asked in the thin voice of those in panic. “Let us go, we never did anything to you!”

  
  
"Oh, _miliy_ , of course you didn’t do anything.” He said honestly as he circled Victor. His husband was gagged and couldn’t do much besides squirm and produce desperate sounds. “But our Vitenka here, he stole something from me.”

  
  
So much was going on in the Yuuri's mind. He tried to understand, but no plausible reason came to him. Victor had stolen something and now the two had to pay? Nothing made sense!

  
  
"You never realized I saw you as more than a friend." Yuri said approaching with a hint of disappointment in his voice. “That night in the locker room, I wasn’t joking, Yuuri. I've always been in love with you.”

  
  
Yuuri froze.

  
  
That night... He had tried to forget everything with the hope that it wouldn’t happen again. He hadn’t even told Victor for fear that Yura would be punished in some way. Now the past came to hunt him. He just didn’t expect it to be so extreme.

  
  
"Yura," he tried in the gentlest voice he could muster. "You're confused. There's no way you like me... like that. You deserve someone younger, more interesting, and... I swear, if you let us go now I’ll forget all this happened. We can go back to live normally...”

  
  
_“No!”_ Yuri screamed in a fit of rage similar to the ones he had when he was a child. “Stop treating yourself like shit, stop pretending that everything's fine, just fucking stop! Stop ignoring what's right in front of you: I love you, Yuuri. And the only way I can have any chance is to get rid of him.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Victor, who was watching everything motionless.

  
  
The blonde took a deep breath and put another manic smile on his face as he headed for a sports bag lying on the ground. It was the same he used in practice. He took off gloves, which he put on immediately and... a blade. Like the ones found in skates.

  
  
Yuuri began to sweat cold.

  
  
“Yuri...”

  
"Don’t stop us now, the moment of truth.” He hummed behind Victor. “I mean, why Victor? Just because he got some medals and has beautiful blue eyes? I can give you this, Yuuri. I can give you anything.”

  
  
“I love Vitya, Yuri.” Yuuri cried desperately. "You can’t change that. Please, leave us alone!”

  
  
"He doesn’t deserve you." The younger one said coldly looking at Nikiforov with contempt “He is egocentric, weak, stupid... He has made you cry so many times, Yuuri, I know that. I can give you a better life... No, I _will_ give you a better life. And it starts here, tonight.”

  
  
_No_ , Yuuri thought trying to loosen his restraints, _no, no, no..._

  
  
"Yuri, don’t hurt him!" He screamed in panic as the Russian touched his coach’s face with the tip of the metal. "I... I'll stay with you! We’ll be together forever, I’ll never look at Victor again! But please, leave him alone!”

  
  
Yuri turned with a familiar gleam in his eyes. It was that confident energy of someone who had just won a prize. He sighed ecstatic as a teenager in love and said cheerfully:

  
  
" _Miliy_ , I'm glad you're trying to speed things up, but this" He motioned his hand at the whole situation "is necessary. I hope you'll forgive me when we're done.” He turned to Victor.

  
  
"Yuri, no!" Yuuri screamed, trying to break free. "Please, no!"

  
  
"Isn’t it too ironic for you to die with a skating blade?" He asked with an amused smile as Victor's frightened eyes stared at him. "The living legend ending his life with what brought him fame. It’d be really cool if I did this on a rink, but” He shrugged. “That's what we have for today. Enjoy the show, Vitenka.”

  
  
He didn’t have time for more reactions before he stabbed the blade into Victor’s chest. Victor made some alarmed sound by the pain and Yuuri screamed behind him, but Yuri didn’t stop. It would have been easier if it were a knife, but the young man was determined to make it work for aesthetic reasons. And every time he saw the blood dripping, he remembered more reasons to go on.

  
  
“This is for Yuuri,” Another blow. “For being an asshole,” One more. “For making himself king of the world,” And another. “For being a pathetic attempt of a father” And another. “And for being so stupid to not notice another man falling in love with your husband under your own roof.”

  
  
It was intoxicating, the feeling. To see the horror in Victor's eyes every time the metal pierced him. After a while he stopped making sounds, but Yuri kept going in his frenzy. He heard nothing, just the wet sound of the skate and the desperate cries of Yuuri behind him. So many years of hidden hatred finally being released. He could almost laugh if it wasn’t his concern in finishing the task.

  
  
Dedushka wouldn’t be proud, but he didn’t care.

  
  
He didn’t know how much time passed, but after numerous strikes, Victor stopped moving and their clothes were wine red. A touch on the older man's neck confirmed the lack of heartbeats.

  
  
Yuri smirked as he released his weapon and looked for something in Victor's tied hands.

  
  
The ring.

  
  
The symbol of a foolish love that ended today. The vows were very clear: until death do us part.

  
  
Yuri laughed.

  
  
“Victor Nikiforov is dead.” He said looking at the golden circle in his hand before throwing it over his shoulder. "And this ring is garbage, just like his owner. I'll give you something better, Yuuri, I promise.”

  
  
Yuuri was still sobbing, but he couldn’t produce tears anymore, not even sounds. He cried so much already, screamed until his throat hurt. Nothing worked. All that was left was to look down so to not face his husband's dead body a few feet away.

  
  
Yuri held his face with his fingertips, making him look up. Yuri was smiling. And not the evil smirk of TV psychopaths. It was the smile of the boy who won the Grand Prix at 15, who loved cats and pirozhki, who let Yuuri braid his hair when he was a kid. It was _Yuri's_ smile and it was painful as the edge of a knife on his chest.

  
  
"Katsudon, don’t be like that. This feeling, it’ll go away someday. People come and leave, love begins and ends. Mine is very far from ending.” He took off one of the gloves and wiped the tears of a motionless Yuuri with his thumb. “Because every time you step on the ice and makes a spin, a jump, a step sequence, you make me burn inside, Yuuri.”

  
  
Yuuri closes his eyes and turns his face to the other side. He was sad. It would be like that for a time, unfortunately. He could wait. Time only made love grow, it would be the same with Yuuri. He would learn, he had always been a good student.

  
  
Yura held his shoulders from behind and bowed so he could speak in his ear:

  
  
"Let's make history together, Yuuri.” He whispered in his ear, with tremendous satisfaction at noticing the Japanese's shivering. “Dancing on the blades, you always set my heart on fire.”

  
  
Yuuri barely resumed his crying, but Yuri was all smiles. Agape and Eros were one. The tiger reached its prey. The biggest prize was won.

  
  
The object of his Mania was now his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Lorde's The Louvre, and it pretty much inspired me to write this, give it a listening.

**Author's Note:**

> #PrayForYuuri2018 #FeedTheYuriYuuTag2018


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